


Christmas Cookies, Babe

by sparkysparky



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: After the Fall, Christmas Fluff, Hannibal is a Cannibal, M/M, Post-Season/Series 03, murder husbands fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:48:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28277913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparkysparky/pseuds/sparkysparky
Summary: Will finds a festive way to torture Hannibal for Christmas. Hannibal doesn't let it distract him from his mission.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 12
Kudos: 76
Collections: 2020 New Year's Countdown





	Christmas Cookies, Babe

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the This was written for the [New Year's Countdown](https://newyearcntdown.livejournal.com/) for the prompt "Caroling".
> 
> This fic comes with a playlist. You can listen to it [on Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4IYfXmfHP6kmVLnY2fVvIR) or [YouTube](https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLD4q3zxSxgd34FEUBpZwD8bLn1X31-Msw)...hopefully.

The first time it happened, Hannibal didn't think anything of it. It was a couple of days into December and they were staying in a seaside cottage in Downeast Maine. It was a risk to be so close to where Will had lived with his wife, but Hannibal's holiday plans hinged on being able to get to and from the cottage to the house where Molly and her son still lived. Since all interested authorities had focused their search for Will and Hannibal in Argentina, it was as safe a time as any to head back to the States. They would be on their way to Malta by New Year. 

Will had gone along with the plan, though he'd been skeptical of it. Hannibal knew it was a combination of fear of being back on American soil and guilt over the way he'd left Molly and her child. Maine held a lot of memories for William Graham, good and bad. So Hannibal had been prepared for his Will to be withdrawn, perhaps even morose or angry. He hadn't been prepared for this. 

Will danced around the kitchen, singing about Christmas Cookies with some country singer twanging out of the radio. Hannibal watched, bemused until Will turned and saw him. He expected his normally self-conscious partner to blush, but Will surprised him. He grinned and danced his way over to Hannibal with a hand held out. As always, Hannibal was helpless to deny Will anything, and though the song physically hurt him he let the other man pull him into a pedestrian-but-charming-for-it quickstep. 

"I sure do like those Christmas cookies, babe," Will sang as the music transitioned to the radio deejay bleating on about some so-called fun fact about the singer. 

"Is this your subtle way of asking for cookies, Will?" 

"Well, I'm not going to complain if the mood strikes you." He leaned up for a kiss, and Hannibal didn't notice when the music started up again, too involved in something much more pleasant than cookies. 

***

After that, it was a nonstop bombardment of Christmas music that filled the house. Hannibal would have thought that Will was waging war against him if it hadn’t been the radio playing. Will couldn’t control what the deejay played. Since the entire staff of this particular radio station played only the most derivative or emotionally manipulative garbage, Hannibal thought he was quite justified in making plans to delicately remove their ears to serve as an appetizer. If he had to listen to one more aging rockstar’s rendition of Silent Night, he’d end up following through with his fantasies and ruining their ultimate plan for the holiday. 

He restrained himself for one reason: Will seemed to genuinely enjoy even the most obnoxious of songs (by Hannibal's reckoning the title is currently held by one of the dozen versions of _Twelve Days of Christmas_ he’d heard so far). Will was so rarely cheerful that Hannibal didn't want to destroy the mood. Cheerful Will had benefits that Hannibal was all too happy to take advantage of. He could handle a few weeks of holiday songs. 

***

As it turned out, Hannibal could not, in fact, handle a few weeks of holiday songs. Will kept the radio on from the moment they woke up to the minute they went to bed, and somehow the Christmas songs just...kept...coming. Carol after carol, remix after remix, pathetic attempt to modernize the genre after pathetic attempt, they just kept coming. It would have been impressive if it hadn’t made Hannibal want to cut his _own_ ears off. 

His breaking point came late one afternoon when he walked into the kitchen and was greeted but the dulcet tone of the Chipmunks (Will had explained who the Chipmunks were to him once before, as the station played this particular song nearly every day). He nodded once, gave Will a kiss to the cheek, and turned on his heel. He kept walking until he was out of the house, and could hear Will laughing at him as he went. 

They had bought a nondescript truck for their time in Maine, and once Hannibal was inside he pulled out his phone and sent a text. “I know you’re tormenting me, and I am a big enough man to admit it’s working. I’ll be back in a few hours.” He was glad his phone was connected via Bluetooth, and the lovely, lovely sounds of Bach were a balm to his poor, abused ears. 

Since it looked like he had a few hours, it seemed his Christmas surprise for Will was going to move up a few days. 

***

In the end, it took him less than an hour to execute his plan. The drive to and from took three times as long, but that was okay. It meant fewer hours having to listen to those blasted songs. Still, he imagined the look on Will’s face when he realized what Hannibal had been up to for the past few hours. Revenge was going to be glorious. 

***

The house was dark when Hannibal arrived home, with just one window illuminated. That suited Hannibal perfectly. He parked the truck and very quietly made his way into the house. It was slightly awkward with the surprises he was bringing home with him, but Hannibal was nothing if not determined. Once inside, he followed the faint sounds of the radio up the stairs to their bedroom. 

He eased open the door and Will looked over from the bed. He was wearing his glasses and had a book in hand. The radio turned out to be the television, tuned to a sports station and reinforcing the notion that Will had been using the carols to torture Hannibal. It shouldn’t have been as endearing as it was, but Hannibal had never been very rational when it came to Will. 

“Hey. I’m sorry…” Will trailed off when it registered just what Hannibal had been up to in his time away. “Hannibal, what did you do?” 

At Will’s voice, Winston’s tail had started wagging and Hannibal made no move to stop the dog as he bounded over to the bed and jumped up. Buster gave a yip and wriggled until Hannibal put him down on the bed beside Will. The dogs bathed Will’s face in greeting, and Will laughed even as he looked at Hannibal with a mix of wonder and suspicion. 

“Don’t alarm yourself, Will. Molly and her son are on a plane to Michigan to visit her family. The dogs were boarded with a friend. I did nothing except a bit of burglary.” He paused. “I am sorry I could only bring two; I’m afraid it would just be too complicated to travel with seven dogs.” Two would be complicated enough. “I know you’ve missed these two especially, and as we were in Maine…” 

“You capitalized on the opportunity to get my dogs back,” Will finished for him. His eyes had gone soft, and he kept dropping kisses on the dog’s heads. The dogs had settled down and were looking at Will with devotion. It was, Hannibal would admit, a lovely sight even if the dogs would leave hair and slobber on the sheets. “Thank you. Hannibal, this is...thank you.” 

“Mmm, and after you’ve been torturing me with this drivel,” Hannibal said, waving a hand towards the radio. “It was nearly enough to make me change my mind.” 

“Fuck off. I wasn’t torturing you,” Will protested, but ruined it by grinning. “Okay, maybe the Chipmunks were torture, but the rest I genuinely enjoy.” 

“Even the one about the red shoes?” That one had been particularly hard to stomach. “It’s all right Will. I’ll let you make it up to me.” 

“I’ll just bet you will.” Will grinned again, then extracted himself from the dogs. He reached over and pulled open the drawer to his bedside table to pull out a manila envelope. “Since we’re exchanging gifts early, here’s yours.” 

Hannibal arched a brow as he accepted. When he opened it, there were several news article printouts inside. Each one was on a different murder on the Mediterranean coast. His brow arched even more as he read them. “You think these are all the same killer.” It wasn’t a question, and Hannibal was inclined to believe Will was right. 

“Yes. I do.” Will gently pushed the dogs aside so he could reach out and pull Hannibal down on the bed beside him. “And we’re going to hunt him.”


End file.
